Dear God, I Give Thanks

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I have to use this occasion to put down the TONS of things I'm thankful for. When I sat down to write my thanks, I found myself repeating everything I said in a letter I posted on AwesomelyLuvvie a couple of months ago. So here it is again.



Dear God,

It's me, Luvvie. I just wanted to say that I'm thankful for everything. I look around at all my blessings and I take credit for none of it. I'm not that powerful. It's ALL You. You set my life's theme to be LOVE before my mother even named me that and everyday, something or someone around me epitomizes it.

I'm thankful for those You've placed around me, who push me to be better. Those who see bigger things for me than I see for myself. Those who appreciate me when I've taken myself for granted. Those who "in the world of smoke and ashes... are milk and honey" (word to India.Arie).

I thank You for the gift of writing, because although I missed the "good sense" line, You gave my pen a special touch so when it hits paper, something good happens. And of course, my natural gift of roast (not sure if You wanna take credit for that, but I'mo give the glory to you anyway. I won't be surprised if the Lord just gave me the side-eye o_O talmbout "Umm... that foolery is all yours. No thanks.")

I know I visit Bedside Baptist and Pillow Pentecostal way too often on the Sabbath, but do know that You are important to me. When I say my prayers at night, sometimes I fall asleep before I get to "AMEN". This is shameful of me. I'm sorry. *hangs head in shame* I be tired and sleep just dropkicks me I will do better. I may not know your WORD verbatim but I try to live the best life I know how. I treat folks well, I love my neighbor as my friend (apart from the ones that make that gross-smelling food and... You know what? Never mind), and I try not to covet anything that isn't mine (apart from fabulous shoes. Those I covet often. I hope that isn't too bad. I loves shoes).

I also give thanks for the pain. Life's curriculum has been Advanced Placement and I haven't always passed and gotten credit. I also haven't failed either, even when I didn't study. But it's taught me much and I've taken away lessons I hold dear to me from it all. I am who I am for them. Flawed, but learning and growing. See, God? Sinners have souls too (c) Color Purple.

So this is all to say I'm thankful for today and everyday. For my blessings. For my LOVES. For my passion for life. For a light heart. For joy. For him. For her. For them. Just... thank You.

Yours in gratefulness,

LUVvie (Love life)

"My imperfections & failures are as much a blessing from God as my successes & my talents & I lay them both at his feet." - Mahatma Gandhi

I lay my burdens at His feet.

The Surface Blogger

I originally wrote this post for Aliya S. King's blog, and she posted it on August 5, 2009. The Surface Blogger.

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I sit down to write a post for my blog. The topic… Religion? Nope. Relationships? Not my own. Politics? Umm… I like Obama. That’s good enough.

Which celebrities do I think need to go SAT DOWN and think about themselves? Yes. I’ll write about that. What fashion trends need to die a violent death in a Dereon bonfire? My readers are all too familiar. Hilarious adventure I had yesterday? Sure, I’ll share.

I don’t write about anything that’s really personal to me. I don’t write about how Father’s Day came and went with no recognition from me despite the fact that my dad is alive and well. I don’t write about how I wish I could forge a stronger relationship with God.

By nature, I’m non-confrontational. Harmony Rules Everything Around Me (HREAM). To open myself up is to subject myself to vilification. And honestly, being judged by people, even those I do not know, is something I’m not ready for. I’m just not brave enough.

I haven’t always been a Surface Blogger though.

I started blogging in the days when AOL reigned supreme and the running yellow man and that “ping” sound signified an internet connection. Back when A/S/L (age/sex/location) was a popular “getting to know you” question. (24/No, thank you. I hardly know you/Chitown). Yes, yes y’all. Way back in 2003.

Picture it, my computer, six years ago. It was the second semester of my freshman year in college. The blogging platform was called Xanga. It was clunky, slow and the content looked clumsy.

My blog was called “Consider This The Letter I Never Wrote.” It was like an online journal. Sometimes, I’d blog about my day, no matter how minute the details.

I also blogged about extreme emotions and vented. Super pissed? Blog about it. Feeling really down? Weep with my words. The time I fought with my good friend and felt betrayed? Call her a b*tch online. Witnessed my nephew’s birth? Describe the joy & disgust of childbirth to everyone!

I shared my highs and lows with my reader(s), which consisted of a handful of friends. Basically, it was an ordinary (read: boring) blog of a college student’s life.

Then my stepdad died of cancer in December of 2005:

“My Stepdad’s wake was yesterday, and it was tough. What I saw was far from the man I knew. At first, when we walked into the funeral home, and into the section where he was laid, I walked about 10 feet from the casket and retreated, because the glimpse of him totally unsettled me. I walked away, and had a quick cry and then came back and got by the casket. His body looked nice in the gray pinstriped suit that me and my Mom picked out for him. His tie was on point (a gradated blue and gray one). There was a Bible on his chest with his arms placed on it, and a rosary around that. The suit fitted him to a tee (which in itself was a GREAT accomplishment by the Undertakers, due to the fact that he probably weighed less than me when he died). Then I worked my way up to his face, and here was where I just wanted to bawl.”

My stepdad was a handsome man, who was closer to the lighter side than darker. He loved to laugh, and loved to LIVE, and live well. The man in the casket only slightly resembled him, with his dark, rubbery skin, and expressionless face. The only way I knew it was him for sure was by the shape of his eyes, and his profile still showed a bit of his former self. I was FLOORED! I stared, walked away, and repeated over the course of the night. Before the service started, at one point, the only people standing by his casket were me and my Sis. And we touched him. He was SO COLD and hard. His body was rigid. “Can I touch his face?” My sis said “Yeah if you want.” It was like I was touching mere skull. So cold, and so hard. We stared for a while, and studied him almost. I couldn’t stop. I was looking at him, hoping that I’d see a little twitch at anytime, and he’d open his eyes. Nothing. He didn’t quite look like he was sleeping, and I’m not sure if I’d say he looked completely lifeless either. But he certainly was not in that body.”

I opened myself up in a way I probably never will again in a public forum. I am no longer willing to share my pain and deepest feelings with a unknown amount of people. Even reading it now, I get slightly uncomfortable that I shared so much of myself. I can’t remember if there were any comments on that post, but I can’t imagine that I actually wanting feedback when I posted that.

Today, I’m a closed book with a few open chapters.

I abandoned Xanga 3 years ago and moved to Blogger where I created a new blog named “Luvvie’s Queendom” or something chiché and cheesy like that. Then changed it to “Luvvie’s Random Rants”, which today is “Awesomely Luvvie.”

The recipe for my blog’s brand of social commentary is a scoop of analysis with a dollop of wit and a pinch of snark in a crust of IGnance (not to be confused with ignorance. IGnance is plum foolery, while still being intelligent). This gave birth to LuvvieIG (my Twitter screename).

I accidentally carved a niche for myself as a humorist when I started blogging about random things in the news, pop culture and just life in general. What I blog about is often my stream of consciousness, and apparently, it’s amusing. I give credit to my over-imagination and my penchant for foolish metaphors.

A few of my reader favorites:

When writing about something that makes me loose my cool, odds are, you will see a *wall slide* or two (picture when someone goes on a wall and slides down into a crumple on the floor. THAT is a wall slide). I even filmed a video to show what a *WALL SLIDE* looks like. View HERE. The first reference I saw to someone sliding down a wall was on VerysmartBrothas.com. My imagination ran wild with it and I’ve been wall sliding ever since.

When something is too ridiculous for me to fathom, or has rendered me dumbfounded, I say a simple “iCan’t.” Can’t what? Doesn’t matter, Whatever it is, I just can’t. This is closely related to “iRebuke it.”

When I see a wig or weave, I refer to it as a “hairhat” (because some folks’ hair looks like a literal hat of hair strands)

My other Luvvie-isms include: iHate that iLove you, *thug on floor* (for when I get emotional), iRoast because iLove, iShan’t…

Although I get a lot of people to laugh, sometimes, I wish I hadn’t pigeon-holed myself into being a humorist. There are times I want to lay on my eCouch and vent to my readers about the things that are truly bogging me down. I’m tempted to talk about my perpetual feeling of being overwhelmed because of my huge fear of failure.

But at this point, folks have come to expect a certain kind of writing from me. To serve them with an op-ed or an emo post would weaken my brand.

Although even Atlas Shrugged, Luvvie can’t. I’ll just *wall slide* my way through my thoughts. Thankfully, I don’t have to try too hard to be funny. If I did, I’d be drier than Beyonce and her lacefront hairhat during an interview. My hope is to stand out somehow by making folks cackle a couple of times.

Will I ever write about personal topics again? Sure. When Idris Elba ends up on my doorstep and professes his love for me, I’ll share EVERY bit of that experience with my readers.

Until then. iShan’t.

Black folks can't have NOTHING

Why are some white folks so threatened by anything identified to be targeted towards Black people? We can't have NOTHING for ourselves without someone from the majority group feeling slighted because of our "preferential treatment."

I took a lot of race-focused classes in college. One that still stands out in my mind was a 20-person class called "Race & Ethnicity" which just happened to be 10 black and minority students, 10 white ones. One day, we had a "fish bowl" activity, where the 10 white kids sat in a circle while we sat on the outside. And they were told to be blatantly honest about their thoughts on race issues, affirmative action and the like. I remember the white kids saying how they felt slighted because they were always coming across scholarships that they couldn't apply for because they were for "minorities." I had a permanent scowl on my face during this  exercise.

Then one particular chick was mad that she didn't get chosen to be a Resident Advisor even though she was qualified. She felt that the reason she didn't get it was because the university wanted to "diversify." I remember kindly telling her "Ok, this school is made up of 70% white students. If EVERY qualified white student who applied to be an RA got it, by numbers alone, it'd be a pretty monochromatic dorm staff." Her: "Oh. Well I guess I never thought about it like that." Naw fool. you didn't. And the issue of the minority scholarships is too long for me to talk about in this post. That's for another day.

I've had this comic since I was a senior in college and I've kept it saved in like 5 locations so I wouldn't lose it. Cartoon by Barry Deutsch of LeftyCartoons.com

American Airlines, in partnership with Nelson George, just launched a travel portal called Black Atlas: The Passport to the Black Experience. The concept is that when Black folks travel and we wanna know certain places of interest, it serves as reference tool. It's focuses on Black travelers and lets folks know things like information on Black culture in Madrid. Or where to visit if one goes to Seattle. Full disclosure: I'm a contributor for the Black Atlas website.

Sounds decent enough right? NOPE! Apparently, some white folks are insulted by it and think it's racist. I've seen some folks tweet about how it offends them. WHY? Because it's not for you???

We can't have nothing for ourselves! These are probably the same people who are mad we have a Black entertainment Television. Well, that's because EVERY OTHER CHANNEL is white entertainment. And BET isn't much of a trophy anyway. Black folks hate it as much as white folks resent it (but don't get me started on BET. I'd never stop). Shoot, technically BET isn't even done by US anyway. It's owned by Viacom, same folks that own CBS & MTV. So womp.

But I don't understand why some white people think us having something FOR US is somehow racism. Yes, I do think it's dope that there's a website I can go that will point me to the oldest Black cemetery in the United States. No, it has nothing to do with you. And no, everything doesn't have to.

You're mad at an online portal for Black people? Cry me a river, build a bridge, and get the hell over it.

P.S. This slightly convoluted post was sponsored by Fatigue Inc and Need some sleep enterprises.

I'm Nobody's Darky

A year ago, history was made. It was interesting to see that I was experiencing a day that would be in textbooks, 100 years from now. The chapter would be called "The first Black United States President was Elected." Kids would have to memorize the day's events for their quiz. Barack Obama would be in the index pages, with his name in bold and an asterisk. He is just that special.

It was a beautiful feeling to sit on history's lap and watch it tell a story that unfolded as it went along. THAT is the significance of today to me, and it will remain so.

But the day started tinged with negativity. I woke up this morning and on my commute to work, got on Twitter, as usual. What I saw pissed me off for at least an hour where I ranted and raved. The #2 trending topic was "ThingsDarkiesWouldSay." What this means is that around the WORLD, on the 2nd most used social networking site, the second most popular topic was "Things Darkies Would Say."

Tell me, Black people. Has Twitter become our newest way of kicking ourselves as white folks laugh at us? Are we using it to make self-sabotage easier and faster? There isn't ONE day where there isn't an offensive Black-focused or initiated trending topic, and each time, it pisses me off to no end. I still remember Lil Duval starting a "TeachANiggaTuesday" trending topic a couple of weeks ago, and it went on for over 30 minutes. I have a HUGE amount of disdain for him. But that's neither here nor there.

People said that "Darkies" is a South African term used similarly to "nigga" so it isn't offensive. First of all, don't get me started on the falsity of that statement. I'm gonna leave my thoughts about "nigga" and "nigger" for another day.

For a trending topic to exist, the subject of it has to be tweeted by a lot of people, and a lot of times, simultaneously. South Africans are not so concentrated on Twitter that they could (by themselves) make a trending topic that not only gets so high, but sustains for so long.

This makes it clear that the topic had help from around the world, probably, especially from Americans. Black Americans, I presume. THIS is where I truly have a problem. We do these things to ourselves and then get mad when white folks join in. If we calling ourselves darkies, what do we expect them to call us? Fine citizens? Blackface stopped being overt entertainment for White folks in the 40s and 50s but we've kept it up in other forms. I feel like this is one.

Trending topics come and go on Twitter but this one has had staying power.

"Darkies" may have started as an inoffensive term describing Black folks in South Africa. However, it isn't continuing as that. Words are given power and meaning by those who use it. Look at the evolving meanings of the words used in the Bible, and what they mean today, as an example. As the trending topic went on, "darkies" was used as a term to make fun of Black people by OTHER Black people. It was all on some dumb ish like "#ThingsDarkiessay imma either be a nba player or a drug dealer." (Yes, that was one I copied and pasted). So on Twitter this morning, "darkies" wasn't being used to refer to South Africans inoffensively.

A darky is a caricature of Black people. I lay no claims to it.

I'm nobody's darky. I'm Nigerian first. African second. Black always. Darky or nigger NEVER! They say it's not what you're called that matters, but what you respond to. I give a damn what I'm called and I surely won't respond to the foolishness. 

We need to spend the day remembering how far we've come. And that we are better than we give ourselves credit for. One of us is sitting in the White House. I'm sure Barack isn't claiming "Darky" anytime soon either.

Edit: It is now the #1 trending topic, and has now been up there for 2 hours. 

Edit 2: Twitter finally intervened and deleted it. Bravo.